


You, Me, and the Slush in the Streets

by shieldings



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cass knows like 8 words rip, Cassandra Cain and Jason Todd are Siblings, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Homelessness, Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain meet earlier, Light Angst, but not blood siblings in this just two kids who adopted each other, slight crime, street siblings au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldings/pseuds/shieldings
Summary: Professional street urchin Jason Todd is struck by an uneasy feeling and suspects someone is following him.That someone is former child assassin Cassandra Cain, who, with nowhere else to go, is taking a leap of faith.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd
Comments: 19
Kudos: 140





	You, Me, and the Slush in the Streets

**Author's Note:**

> This is using a premise by a-sketchy-character! (https://a-sketchy-character.tumblr.com/)  
> They've also used this premise in their Street Siblings comic (https://streetsiblings.tumblr.com/)  
> Another person using this premise is grey_toiletpaper, who wrote "Out on Allen Street, it's 7 in the Morning"! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100699/chapters/66175306)  
> Another another person using this is Experimental_Muse who wrote "First Contact"! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037882)  
> Since I'm jumping into such a popular idea, I hope I'm doing it justice ^^"

Jason pops another M&M into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue instead of chewing it. He has no idea why someone would throw away a perfectly good bag of candy, but he's not going to think too hard about it. Maybe he's imagining it, but he can feel the strength coming back into his limbs. He feels less sleepy, too.

He tucks the empty bag into the pocket of his frayed jeans, already regretting finishing them. Now that he's eaten something, what else is he going to do with his day? He hasn't found any cigarettes, which is a pain, since it's so cold that his nose feels numb and he could really use some warm smoke to fill up his aching lungs.

Maybe he'll go to the library. He's still too small to kick out for loitering, right? Just as he turns to leave the alley, Jason feels a shiver run up his spine. He whips around, raising his fists defensively. Nobody's there. This doesn't calm him down. Jason squints as he peers into the dark, wet alley, looking for any sign of movement.

“Hey,” he says in the deepest, roughest voice he can muster. “Think good and hard about what you're about to do, buddy.”

What _is_ the invisible person about to do? Jason isn't sure, but he wants them to think good and hard about it. He hears a scuffle and nearly jumps out of his skin only to realize that it's just a rat migrating from beneath the dumpster to a pile of cardboard boxes.

“What are you playing?” Jason asks. This voice is making his throat hurt. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Nobody answers. Jason weighs his options and decides that the best choice is to make a run for it. He nearly slips on a patch of slush in his haste to get out of the alley. Even when he's a safe two blocks away he still has an uneasy feeling.

\---

A couple of hours later, Jason has shaken off that gross feeling and has settled down outside the 7-11. He used to go here a lot-- when his mom was around, it was where they got their groceries. Sometimes she'd splurge and they would split a can of Yoohoo. Even though he doesn't have any money to go in with, something about the worn bricks and the smoky smell is comforting.  
  


A gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes and a scraggly gray beard joins him, sitting gingerly on the damp ground.

“Afternoon,” he says cordially.

“It's dark out,” Jason says. He's not sure what time it actually is. Days and nights tend to blur together. They're basically the same, though nights tend to be more dangerous.

“Damned if it isn't,” the man says. “What's a kid doing out this late?”

“Anywhere else I'm supposed to be?” Jason asks, scowling.

“Just askin', just askin',” the man says, raising his palms. “I'd just get somewhere safe if I was you. Some guy's been-- what?”

“What?” Jason repeats after him. “What's going on?”

“Just thought I... It's not safe for kids out there lately, is all I'm sayin'.”

Jason sighs and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, dragging down the edge of his hoodie. “Is it that big a deal?” It's never _really_ safe out there, but he's always gotten by fine. “You're not a kid, so you're fine.”

“Nothin' wrong with a little empathy,” the man says.

Jason rolls his eyes and walks off to find another place to lurk.

\---

It happens the next day, too. Jason has the unpleasant feeling of eyes on his back when he covertly removes a woman's wallet from her purse and he's certain someone is about to yell “Stop! Thief!” but nobody does.

When he walks proudly out of McDonald's with a bag of french fries bought will ill-gotten money, he expects someone to ask for one. Of course, he would have said “no,” but it's almost disappointing when there's nobody to answer. He's not disappointed enough to be really put-off, though. He still stuffs his face wholeheartedly.

Maybe he's just being paranoid.

\---

Jason has been sleeping rough lately. The condemned buildings are already full of squatters, and he knows better than to accept “help” from people who offer couches to young boys. With nowhere inside to sleep, he's been hiding from the sleet in a cardboard shelter he built in an out-of-view area between buildings and lined with newspaper.

Of course, it's not usually safe to build a fire when your whole house is so flammable, but he's risking it tonight. He has a pile of yet more cardboard and newspaper on the other side of the alley, but it's damp and he's having a rough time getting it to set alight.

  
“Come on,” he mutters as he clicks the lighter yet again. It's a nice one (his mother had liked it a lot) but it doesn't seem to be doing the trick. Jason curses under his breath as the edge of the funnies page smolders and blackens without actually catching fire. Garfield stares at him judgmentally. That's when he hears it.

A light “thump,” soft but unmistakable. Jason's head snaps up. He's afraid to turn and look. At best, it's another bum looking to share his fire. At worst, it's...

“What are you looking at?” he says harshly, still not turning his head. “Go find somewhere else.”

The presence at his back doesn't go away. He feels frozen in place-- he'll admit it, he's afraid. He knows someone has been following him. He doesn't know who or why. He hasn't had a moment where it's not on his mind, and now his mysterious pursuer is right behind him. His only option is to protect himself.

Jason very slowly reaches into his pocket for the worn switchblade he's carried since he was nine. His hand trembles as he wraps his fingers around the cold handle.

A hand is laid on his shoulder. He shoots up, pulling the knife out of his pocket and spinning around to face the person behind him.

Before he's able to do anything a small, strong hand wraps around his wrist, stopping the freed knife in its path. His arm is yanked forward and a palm is shoved under his chin, forcing his face up. He just stands that way for a second, too shocked to move. His opponent doesn't try to do anything else; they just keep him stuck with his chin pushed up and his arm stretched out, knife useless.

Slowly, cautiously, the hand under his chin lowers, though the grip on his wrist is still tight. He gets a good look at the person who's apparently decided to hold him hostage.

They're a kid. They're (she's) a little girl, much shorter than him, with big, serious eyes and a mouth covered by a heavy scarf.

“You're really small,” he says through the hand that's still partly covering his mouth. “What the fuck.”

She assesses him, eyes darting from his face to his free hand to his battered shoes. Slowly, she loosens her grip and lets go of his chin, releasing him. She takes a step back, body tense and ready to attack or dart away at any second.

Jason clicks his blade back into its case and slides the knife back into his pocket, not looking away from the girl's face. She has dirty black hair that hangs in her eyes and thick brows. Her nose is delicate and rounded. If she hadn't just had him in a painful hold, he would have assumed she was harmless.

“Why have you been following me around?” he asks. She doesn't answer. “What do you want from me?” Again, no answer. Jason sighs (a puff of mist from his mouth). “I'm Jason.” He holds out his hand. Hesitantly, she grips it. Her hand is cold and thin. She still doesn't say anything.

  
The girl lets go of his hand and points to the lighter on the ground. It glints at him in greeting.

“What?” Jason asks.

  
The girl squats on the ground and retrieves the lighter. She hands it to him and points at the pile of cardboard and newspaper.

  
“Wanna make a fire?” he asks. “There's garbage in there, so it'll stink.”

She doesn't nod. She just points again expectantly.

“'Kay,” Jason says. “Can you talk at all?”

  
The girl doesn't respond. Jason shrugs and crouches by his fire heap. The girl plops back on her bottom and crosses her legs.

It takes a while to get it to light. It's a little embarrassing failing again and again with someone there to watch. Finally, one of the dryer pieces of paper goes alight and spreads to one of the bigger pieces of cardboard.

“See? It does work!” Jason says. Does he sound defensive? “It usually works fine,” he adds. This doesn't make him any less embarrassed. He puts the lighter in his pocket with the switchblade and holds his hands out, taking in the heat. The girl pulls down her scarf. In the flickering light, he can see she's smiling at him. She holds out her hands too, and they sit in silence for some time.

\---

Jason realizes he's awake before his eyes open. He's aware again that his nose and fingers are cold and the back of his hair is wet from the damp concrete. His eyes flicker open and he sees that it's daytime, pale gray and foggy. He rolls over, realizing with some consternation that he's not even in his box hut. Anybody could have come and gotten him while he was asleep. He's lucky they didn't. He shouldn't be so-- what.

Someone is a few feet away from him, sitting up with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, looking at him thoughtfully.

Jason scrambles backward, scraping his hands on the rough concrete. He bumps his head on the brick wall behind him. It seems that the bricks knock some sense into him because suddenly the events of last night come back to him and he feels like an idiot.

“What are you doing?” he asks, rubbing his head.

The girl scoots over to him and pats his shoulder. Ah. She's still not talking. Jason sits up straight. He pats her shoulder back. She smiles.

“So, do you just want to hang around here?” Jason asks, even though he knows she won't answer. “In this alley?”

  
The girl just looks at him. This is starting to get frustrating.

“Just-- just stay, I guess,” Jason says, standing. He points at the ground. “I'll be back. I'm gonna go get something to eat.”

He backs out of the alleyway, raising his palms as though he's trying to calm a wild animal. He turns around when he's certain that she's staying. He puts his hands in his pockets and releases a breath of relief. Something about that girl makes him nervous. What's her game? Is she just stupid? He wraps his fingers around the lighter and somehow feels a little more secure.

Jason settles outside a coffee shop and crosses his legs. Dozens of people walk right past him, ignoring his grubby face as they head to work.

“Hey, miss,” Jason says, making eye contact with a woman in a blue pantsuit. An almost fearful look falls on her face as she realizes she's been wrangled into an interaction with him. “Got a dollar?”

“I'm sorry,” she says quickly. “I don't carry change.” She scurries off, nearly slipping in her high heels on the icy sidewalk.

“'Scuse me,” Jason says to the lady with the corgi on a leash. “That's a cute dog you have there.”

“Thank you,” the lady says apprehensively. She walks a little faster.

“Wait!” Jason says. “Can I pet him?”

“S-sure,” the lady says. She turns and walks the dog up to Jason. It smiles stupidly at him. Jason stretches his hand out and it sniffs him with its wet nose. Jason rubs it between the ears. Even though this is for selfish reasons, he appreciates its attention.

“Can you spare seventy cents?” Jason asks. “For a bottle of water?”

The lady, with nowhere to escape to, reaches into her purse, takes out a dollar, and drops it into Jason's open hand. Jason thanks her sweetly. When she walks away, he can't hide his shit-eating grin.

Jason manages to gather up seven dollars before the coffee shop's manager comes out and says “scram.” Jason smiles appeasingly as he leaves. He knows better than to get in a fight with someone without holes in their shoes.

At the convenience store, Jason buys an energy drink and a hot dog, like usual. Then he remembers someone is waiting for him and adds a plastic-wrapped breakfast sandwich. He's wondering whether the stupid girl is a coffee person when the cashier starts giving him suspicious looks, so he grabs another Red Bull and pays quickly.

It's kind of nice shopping for someone else. Even if it's a little sad to think about the last time he was shopping for two. He whistles quietly as he walks through the glass door when-- oops.

“Watch where you're going!” he snaps.

The girl steps back and smiles apologetically.

“Oh... It's you.” The door swings shut behind Jason. “I'd ask you to stop following me, but I don't think you understand what I'm saying.”

The girl tilts her head. Maybe she does understand? Whatever.

He gestures for her to follow him. The convenience store people don't like it when he hangs out right by the door. It creeps out the customers.

There aren't as many people on the sidewalk anymore; they've all gone on with their days. Jason notices that the girl skips a little on her shorter legs to keep up with him. She isn't wearing socks, he realizes. That can't be good in this weather.

They stop to sit on the front steps of the law office. Jason pulls the food out of his plastic grocery bag and hands the sandwich to the girl. She takes it gratefully. He takes out his hot dog and realizes that the jostling while he was walking has deconstructed it. He shrugs.

“I'm guessing you're new around here,” Jason says. “You're not supposed to just latch on to people.”

The girl starts tearing greedily into her sandwich.

“I do pretty well on my own. I'm not gonna babysit you, you know.”

She nods. Again, Jason isn't sure she's taking in what he's saying.

“Seriously. You can't hang out with me. I'm busy.”

She smiles. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I like being alone.”

The sandwich is gone. She points to his hot dog.

“I mean, I guess,” he says, handing it to her. She looks at it for a second. A guilty expression falls on her face and she hands it back. “I don't even know your name.”

“Cassandra,” she says.

“Wait, you can talk?”

“Jason,” she says, patting his shoulder.

The snow is dirty, but the sun glints off it prettily. Jason hates to admit it, but he's in a pretty good mood right now.


End file.
